


Take the Hurt

by soullistrations



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-23 04:46:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23272513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soullistrations/pseuds/soullistrations
Summary: “It’s a gift from the Wildmother,” his mother tells him. “The soulmate bond is a celebration of the connectedness of all life, a chance to practice empathy and sacrifice with another being.”“It’s like a dam,” Calliope says. “A trickle comes through, enough that you know the river’s still there. But it’s your choice to step into the deep waters on the other side.”“There is a time for everything,” his father Cornelius says. “A time to acknowledge another’s pain, a time to share the burden, a time to carry them through that pain. It’s why we’re given the choice. ”A soulmate AU where you can transfer any pain your soulmate has onto yourself. Fjorclay. Mostly pre-stream.
Relationships: Caduceus Clay/Fjord
Comments: 17
Kudos: 272





	Take the Hurt

“It’s a gift from the Wildmother,” his mother tells him over laundry one day. “The soulmate bond is a celebration of the connectedness of all life, a chance to practice empathy and sacrifice with another being.” She pauses, leans down and shifts the shirt he’s scrubbing. “Make sure you hold it in place, little one. That’s the only way to get the dirt out.” Caduceus silently wonders why they would work so hard when Colton’s only going to get mud on his shirt again the next time he’s on grave-digging duty, but he does as his mother says.

Constance nods approvingly and continues, “The bond reminds us of why we do what we do. Even isolated as we are, we have a place in the flow of life and death. Just like death, pain has its place, and we honor Melora when we acknowledge it.”

“You and papa are soulmates, right?” Caduceus says, and his mother tousles his hair.

“Of course, little one,” she says, and then draws away, staring at her hand for a moment before wincing and clenching it into a fist. “Speaking of,” she says, drawing her hand to her chest, “I think your father needs an extra hand mending the fence. Run and help him.”

With wide eyes, Caduceus nods at his mother, drops Colton’s shirt in the washtub, and bolts off toward the fence.

–-

“It’s like a dam,” Calliope says, digging her fingers into the earth. “A trickle comes through, enough that you know the river’s still there. But it’s your choice to step into the deep waters on the other side.”

“Do you?” Caduceus asks.

“Do I what?”

“Step in.”

Calliope scoops a handful of dirt and holds it up to her eyeline thoughtfully. It’s dark and soft, Caduceus notes. Perfect for growing. “Sometimes,” she says finally.

“How do you know when it’s time?”

“It’s not about knowing.” Calliope drops the dirt and closes her eyes, whispering the short prayer that will bring new life to this place of rest. “I just…sometimes it’s the right time.”

She stands up and walks to the next grave. Caduceus follows at her heels. “What’s your soulmate like?” he asks. “Do they get hurt a lot?”

Calliope shakes her head, a familiar glint in her eye. “No more than me,” she says, and tosses a handful of dirt at Caduceus’ face.

—

“There is a time for everything,” his father Cornelius says over the stewpot one winter. “A time to acknowledge another’s pain, a time to share the burden, a time to carry them through that pain. It’s why we’re given the choice. ”

“I don’t understand why there’s a choice to share the pain, though,” Clarabelle says. “What’s the point in both of you hurting?”

“Shared pain, like shared joy, brings understanding,” Cornelius says. “Do you know who your soulmate is, Clara?”

Clarabelle shakes her head. “Not yet.”

“But do you know them? Do you know what hurts they suffer?”

Clarabelle thinks for a moment. “I know they broke their leg last summer. And that it still aches when it rains.”

Her father nods. “I remember that. You were brave to take on that pain.”

Clarabelle winces in remembrance, and says, “Yeah, but I took it, I didn’t share it.”

Cornelius hums in acknowledgement, and stirs some mushrooms into the stew. “Next time you sense it, try sharing the pain. Live what they are living. Then come and tell me what you’ve learned.”

Clarabelle nods, but her expression is doubtful. Caduceus watches her as he dices onions. He remembers last summer, too—the way Clarabelle had stopped in the middle of their perimeter walk, frowned, and said, “I think something happened to my soulmate.” And then she’d promptly fallen to the ground with a cry, clutching her leg. Caduceus had had to carry her back to the house, and he remembered the way her breath sounded through her gritted teeth, how she gripped at his tunic weakly when he set her down on the bed. She said later it was worth it, if her soulmate didn’t feel the broken leg, but Caduceus wouldn’t know. He still hadn’t felt any of the pressure or tingling his siblings said came when their soulmate was in pain. Which meant either his soulmate was living a very sheltered life, or…

After dinner, Caduceus sits down next to his father. “How can I tell if I have a soulmate?”

Cornelius looks up from the fire, and considers his son’s face a moment. “There’s a time for everything,” he says, reaching an arm around Caduceus’ shoulders. “And there will be a time for you, too. We are a long-lived race, and your soulmate may not have entered this world yet. But when the time comes, you’ll know.”

__

“It’s not about meeting them,” his aunt Corrin remarks, not pausing in her packing.

“But you’re about to go out there. Haven’t you thought about—“

“That’s not why I’m leaving,” Corrin says sharply, cutting Clara off.

Caduceus edges into the room with three cups of tea and sets them down. “We know it’s not why you’re leaving,” he says. “But…if Melora led you to them, what would you do?”

Corrin finally looks up at the smell of tea. She takes a cup with a perfunctory nod, and takes a seat. “I’ve never met mine and I probably never will. It’s not about,” she stops and takes a sip of tea, “romance, or being together physically. It’s not even about stopping the pain. It’s a reminder that you’re not an island. No one is ever truly alone.”

Caduceus nods into his own cup of tea. He’d finally felt the first tingle of a soulmate just two months before—a tickle in his knees, almost like an itch, but when he stopped to consider it, it bloomed into a scraping pressure so bright he had to roll up his pants to make sure he wasn’t bleeding. Even when he found he wasn’t, it took almost a minute before he realized that this must be pain from his soulmate. He’d closed his eyes, taken a breath, and—something indefinable shifted, and he knew his soulmate no longer felt the pain. Caduceus had sat there for a long time, knees burning, eyes hot with unshed tears, and sent a prayer of thanks to Melora for the connection.

Clara sips her own tea, eyes darting between Caduceus and their aunt, before she finally says, “But say you did meet them—“

Corrin stands up with a sigh. “Go check on your sister,” she says, turning away from them. “I have packing to do.”

—

“Is it their teeth again?” Colton says, looking up from the iron fencepost he is hammering into the ground. Caduceus doesn’t respond, just grimaces and rubs his lower lip, as if that will dispel the grinding pain in his lower front teeth. Colton shakes his head and turns back to the fencepost. “Why do you keep putting yourself through that?” he mutters.

“Why don’t you?”

Colton bristles a bit. “What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“My soulmate bond is between me and my soulmate,” Colton says, hammering the post a little harder than necessary.

“Well, so is mine.” Caduceus winces a bit, even as he says it. He doesn’t normally push so much with Colton. Perhaps the toothache is getting to him a bit more than he realizes.

Colton sighs, and his hammer strokes lighten up a bit. “I know. I know. It’s just…it’s always the same thing. You know this by now. There’s no wisdom to be gained in sharing this pain with them every time, and why take it away if you know it’s just going to happen again?” He bends down, picks up another fencepost, and shoves it into the ground, before stopping to wipe his dirty hands on the hem of his tunic. Caduceus stares at the dirt on his brother’s clothes and remembers the words his mother shared over laundry so long ago.

“Pain has its place,” he says, “and we honor Melora when we acknowledge it.”

Colton just shakes his head again and starts to hammer in the next post.

—

The morning before Clarabelle and Colton leave, Caduceus and his sister take one final perimeter walk. Clara looks out at the dark Savalierwood as they walk, and Caduceus watches her, memorizing the set of her shoulders, the way the light filters through her colored hair. They stop to cut down a dark bush that threatens to lean over the fence, and after a few minutes hacking at it, Caduceus says, “You can’t pretend you’re not at least a little excited.”

Clarabelle looks over at him and bites her lip. “I am. I feel guilty even saying it, though.” She laughs, a wild sound that echoes into the silent woods. Gods, Caduceus is going to miss her.

“Doing what’s best for the Blooming Grove is nothing to be guilty about,” Caduceus says, searching her face. “Even if there are other things you’re thinking about.”

Clara cuts her eyes at him. “I never could get anything past you,” she gripes without heat. “I guess…I’m just hoping they’re out there. Maybe some good can come of this Blight.”

Caduceus leans down to saw off a large branch near the bottom of the bush. “Did you tell Colton?”

“What do you think?” she sighs and sits back, dropping her knife into the dirt. “I’m not like him. Or Aunt Corrin. I need to know. Even if it’s not forever.”

Caduceus hums absently, eyes on his work. His palms ache, a phantom rawness that he’s sure means his soulmate is building callouses somewhere. He’s chosen to share this pain instead of taking it—there’s satisfaction to be had in working with one’s hands, and in the pain that comes with it. Sometimes it’s hard not to wonder what they are doing. Maybe they’re a gardener, like Caduceus. Or a builder. Or something he’s never—Caduceus is forced out of his thoughts when his knife slips and slices across the back of his hand. He draws back with a hiss, clutching his bloody hand.

“Caduceus!” Clarabelle cries, and leaps forward to examine his hand. He grits his teeth and holds it out, but even as he does so, the pain dulls, and a warm sensation mists across the back of his hand. Caduceus says a silent thank you and a prayer of healing, and watches the skin knit back together. He shows the healed wound to Clarabelle. “Not a big deal,” he says with a placating smile.

Clara looks far more upset than such a minor wound should elicit. Her eyes dart between his hand and his face, and then she throws herself into his arms. “You can’t die while we’re gone,” she says tearfully.

Caduceus hugs her back. “Well, the natural order of things—“

“Stop it! I’m serious!” She pushes out of the embrace, gripping him by the shoulders. “I hate that you’re going to be alone.”

Caduceus shrugs, not meeting her eyes. “Well…no one is ever truly alone.”

“You know what I mean.”

Caduceus nods. He does know. “You have your duty, and I have mine,” he says, and stands up. “Come on.” He extends his healed hand to her. “I can deal with this bush tomorrow.”

On the walk back, she bumps his shoulder and says, “What would you do if you found your soulmate?”

Caduceus considers his hand. Guessing what his soulmate is doing can be fun. But now more than ever, with Clara and Colton leaving, his duty is here in the Grove. Pretending any different is useless. “I guess we’ll see if Melora guides them here,” he says. “But…I’d probably say thank you.”

—

“How do you feel about helping people who are on the edge of life and death in captivity?” the blue-clad stranger asks, leaning forward over her cup of tea. Her red-headed companion nods and mutters, “Three in the cage is worth one in the dirt.” The others chime in, telling of kidnapped firbolgs and a group called the Iron Shepherds, who are apparently bad guys, and as Caduceus listens, he rubs his wrists absently.

He’s tired, a combination of a lack of sleep and a gnawing worry for his soulmate. Three nights prior, he’d woken up to a tingling feeling at his temple, and then the ghost of pressure at his jaw, wrists, and ankles. It’s not the first time his soulmate has gotten into trouble recently, and it’s nothing compared to that first night, months before, when he had jolted awake to a pressure in his lungs and static across his entire body. But still, something about the moment three nights ago unsettled him, and when he took the pain from his soulmate and felt a cold scraping pressure at his wrists and ankles, he knew something had gone wrong.

For the last three days, every hour brings a flurry of light touches—sometimes at his gut, or his arms, or his knees—and Caduceus knows someone is hurting his soulmate again. He’d taken the pain of enough previous encounters to know what it felt like to be beaten, and…he can’t take all of the pain his soulmate is going through right now. But he can at least take the pain of the manacles. He rubs at his wrist one last time, feeling the rawness of his soulmate’s skin, and speaks.

“I’m a good gardener.” There’s an itch at the back of his brain—just a feeling, like when the soil is rich and dark and ready for planting. He looks around at the strange assortment of people gathered in his house, and decides. He may not be able to help his soulmate, but he can help them.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to mithrilwren for sending me this prompt in an ask! You can come yell at me at the same username on tumblr.


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